DIARY
The cat is out of the blog.
I’m engaged, kids.
Last Sunday, June 13th, I asked Jessica to marry me and be with me for ever.
She said yes.
I held off on blogging this for so long because we threw a party yesterday in celebration, but the invitation was ambiguous as to what we were celebrating.
The story:
PART ONE: BOY AND GIRL
Four years ago Jess and I met and lived happily ever after (and that’s another chapter).
We got stuck together, and even after one year it seemed unlikely we were soon to be unstuck. She felt nervous and sad… but I was encouraging and happy. I felt angry and disconnected… but she was soothing and patient. We survived massive fights, food throwing, tears, death, not graduating, graduating, employment and the lack thereof. Stupid idiots. Bitchy bitchy bitchy bitches.
As time went by, though, it became increasingly clear to me that not only was I likely to spend the rest of my life with this woman, but that I would love this life with a fever… that she was really all I had ever asked and hoped for… she would never bore me or break me or abandon me. And I could promise her the same.
By September 2003, we had spoken about this. I new she wanted to me my wife, and I knew I wanted to be her husband. But she also wanted to be surprised, and there was the challenge.
PART TWO: THE PROCESS
In November I told my mother that I was planning on proposing.
On Christmas Eve my mother and I went to Medawar’s Jewellers in Flint, MI, and picked out the ring; a pear-shaped diamond mounted in a simple but unique band of white gold. I’d decided to purchase the ring on layaway, because my credit is “problematic” and continuing employment was uncertain.
Still, I’d managed to pay off most of the ring by June and my federal tax refund clinched it. I set a date; June 13th. We were already celebrating my sister’s birthday and my brother’s return from Asia on that date.
I just had to speak to her parents before then.
I just had to get her to Michigan.
On Friday my mother picked me up in Hyde Park after an (unsuccessful) job interview. Even though I’d only gotten two hours of sleep the night before, I knew there was no hope of sleeping in the car, so I didn’t even try. My mom and I talked as we rolled through the factories of Gary (avoiding a massive accident smeared across the expressway going both ways), the dunes of southwest Michigan, past Lansing, and the farms and prairies of southeast Michigan. We picked up the ring on Linden road, picked up Chinese food outside Flushing, and watched Father of the Bride (the cheesy new one, with Steve Martin) while we ate dinner. My dad got home, but soon I was exhausted and went to sleep. For six hours.
On Saturday, at 8 AM, while Jessica was moving all of her books, clothes, and furniture out of her dorm and into her sublet (having just finished Finals) and grumbling about my absence, I climbed in the Grand Am with the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack (vol. II) and whirred south by southeast… 23… Past Flint. Past Fenton. Past Brighton. Past Ann Arbor. Past Toledo. 75. To Findlay. 23. Past Marion. Past Delaware. To Columbus. I-70 East. Flat Farmlands. The DarkLands of BuckEyes. Rolling foothills of the Appalachians.
Zanesville, Ohio.
I exited onto 7th street at 2 PM, turned past the church I will probably be getting married at, St. Nicholas, a huge dome outfitted in an opulent Austro-Hungarian or Polish style (I realize distinctions are important; I cannot make these), and zigzagged through to South Zanesville, where I met Jess’ father at Tat’s Pizzeria.
We sat, ordered pizza, chatted about the weather and work.
Then I said, “I’ve been with Jess for four years now, and love her more than anything in the world, and tomorrow I hope to ask her to marry me, and it would mean a lot to me, and I’m sure to Jessica, if we had your blessing.”
And he said, “Well, Connor, you know you have it.”
A very nice meeting.
We drove back to his house, but I still wanted to speak with Jess‘ mother and stepfather. After telling Jess‘ sister and grandfather the news, we were able to get hold of Jess‘ mother. Jess‘ stepfather was at the hospital, but her mother was able to meet in the lobby. We spoke for a few minutes, and again, I received their blessing to ask Jessica.
Less than two hours after arriving in Zanesville, I was back on the road, and six hours later back In Flint. I stopped at Best Buy and bought the Romeo and Juliet soundrack (vol. I), and reconnected with my old, old friend, Katie Cawood, whom I haven’t seen in almost two years.
I got home around 10:15, and went to sleep by midnight.
I woke up at 7, and was on the road by 8.
PART THREE: THE EVENT
All the way there, I kept listening to the same song… the Des’Ree song. It never wore out.
I owned 94 all the way into Chicago, and finally picked up a very tired, worn out, and slightly grumpy Jessica (she actually exaggerates a bit how grumpy she was… she was grumpy; not intolerably grumpy). We stopped at a corner store in South Shore and she got some water, and we stopped at McDonalds (again) before getting on 90 East. Feeling a little better, she went to sleep, and wasn’t getting wise on anything all that way on 94 past Battle Creek.
This was when my plans first hit a snag. I wanted to propose at the Hidden Lake gardens (see below), which is entangled in a nest of roads well off anywhere we were supposedly headed. If she had woken up after I’d exited, easy enough: “I got lost.” As it was she woke up right as I passed by the interchange to 69 North I normally take.
“Weren’t you supposed to exit at 69?”
…
“I’m taking a short cut.”
She bought it. For the moment.
We took 127 South through Jackson, which I explained “It’s a shortcut; it runs through Jackson.” This was almost plausible. 127 is certainly not a shortcut to Flint from Chicago, but 127 North isn’t particularly out of the way. I however was taking 127 South, and worried that she’d notice from the direction of the sun that we were driving pretty much straight toward Ohio.
We switched off 127 and onto 55, a winding two lane road that took us through a series of odd, blink-and-they’re-gone towns with names like “Brooklyn” and “Napoleon.” About forty minutes later, we pulled up at Hidden Lake gardens, a spectacular park I’d discovered with Colin as we planned the road trip for the ill-fated 1st annual Flint Scavenger Hunt.
I’d been complaining to need to use the bathroom, but now as we pulled up in front of a roped drive that read “Closed at Dusk” (it isn’t remotely dusk in Michigan in July at 6:17 PM), I said, “come with me.” We walked about forty feet in, still in sight of the road, but also with a view of the spectacular park, the crumbling round hills with maples and spruces dense about, and sharp mirror ponds.
She followed me to a tall poplar, and there I shook the white ring box out of a cardboad coffee cup.
I handed her the white ring box and said “open this.” She did. Inside she saw a smooth stone, painted blue, and attached to a blue ribbon. The blue paint was already coming off on her hands.
“Connor, thank you!” she said, convincingly polite.
“Well if that’s in there, then I wonder what’s in here?” I said, and pulled out a plastic gumball capsule.
Jess started shaking a little. She said, “you can’t kid me about this!”
I said, “I won’t kid you,” and then I told her that I hadn’t understood love until I met her, and that I had grown to understand through her… that I hoped to keep growing with her forever. I unwrapped her ring and asked her to marry me. She said yes.
PART FOUR: SINCE THEN
And then! Back to the car and on the road, and drove through Tecumseh and to 23 and north and north and back to Flushing. My family was gathered around the table when we arrived, mom and dad, Caitlin and Cody, Grandma Coyne and Aunt Georgia and Peg, fifteen minutes late, and Jessica made the announcement herself. We’re getting married in late summer… August or September next year. We’re getting married in her childhood church. And everyone was happy, and that night we stayed up, talking.
THE PISTONS WON THE SERIES!!!
The next morning, Jess and I ran errands. We had her ring resized. We got my drivers license renewed and library fines paid off. We visited friends, but nobody was home. We ate dinner at the Atlas. Jessica’s father arrived; he’d driven up from Ohio. He was abducting her from me for a week. He was taking his family on vacation to Myrtle beach in South Carolina. She got sun.
As soon as they left, my mother drove me back to Chicago, and we talked weddings on the way. We didn’t get in until midnight, and so she stayed, and did the dishes as a surprise while I slept. She dropped me off at work.
The next week, tension and anxiety and stress and insomnia followed as we put the screws through the final production of the Nocturnal. Maggy and Elisabeth did a splendid job, and they should be proud at the energy and poise they brought to a difficult and contradictory play. Evan was patient and aware. Meridith was energetic and helpful. Twenty-seven people saw the show. We made ninety-nine dollars in donations, paying off most of our expenses. Comments were positive. We celebrated on the roof the Versailles, watching strange clouds drift off the skyline seven miles north, drinking Old Style and Mexican beer.
And then, Jessica got back. She arrived at the party with Sebastian and Meridith, and we visited awhile, and then we all went home.
PART FIVE: THE BIG WRAP UP
On Sunday, after a long, luxurious sleep, I woke up, lounged around the apartment awhile, and set out to do the bead thing. I went to the Medici. I ordered coffee, and read and read. I walked to Kimbark liquors, bought a 30-pack of Old Style Genuine Draft, dropped it off at Jessica and Meridith’s, and walked ten minutes to St. Thomas for sun-dappled Mass.
When I came back, we threw a party in celebration of our engagement. The invitation was ambiguous; we didn’t want people feeling pressured to bring gifts. We just wanted them to celebrate with us. Still, Jen and Mike Kennedy brought a bottle of Chardonnay, and Maggy brought us Polish honey liqueur. And so many people stopped by. They trickled in and hour for three hours, and in the end, Jess and Meridith and I sat in the soft lit living room and watched the first half of French Kiss. It was the end of the first full weekend since. Four more days to the second.
* * * * *
And I didn’t tell you about losing my keys.
And I didn’t tell you about my wedding planner.
I didn’t tell you about the coffee stains.
It doesn’t matter.
Now you have the story.
“WHIR,” BY THE SMASHING PUMPKINS
“I’ve wasted all my years.
Been chasin’ all my fears
for another brighter than you.
“I gave it long ago
to make it to the show.
And it’s not easy… when you’re alone.
“All your friends
in my head.
Don’t you care?
Whir yourself around
just to fall back down.
Whir yourself around.”
“My holy little girl,
c’mon, let’s go for a whir.
It’s still early. Sun is sleepin’.
“She says she wants to marry me.
She says she wants a baby.
It’s not easy… when you’re scared.
“Whir yourself around
just to fall back down.
Whir yourself around.”
“All your friends
in my head.
Don’t you care?”